Trust Issues, It Says Here
by lannallama
Summary: Sherlock has a crack in his wall, one that emanates voices and light. That's why, when the Doctor crash lands in his backyard, Sherlock immediately takes him to the problem.
1. Chapter 1

**Basically, this is my first published fic. Criticism is welcome, but don't be a butt. Don't expect updates on a regular basis.**

Sherlock Holmes was a boy of many great things,among them were knowledge and dedication. Not among them, however was the gift of making friends. Sherlock Holmes was a very lonely boy, and had only one friend, who went by the name of Jim. However, Jim was loud, cruel, and neglected Sherlock for days on end, so Sherlock found it debatable whether or not friend was the correct term. This is why, when the rift showed up in Sherlock's room, the only person who knew was Sherlock. The exception to that was Mycroft, but he had it in his mind that the opening was an ordinary crack and could not find a single reason for his brother to get so worked up about trifles such as that. The crack, however, was more than that, it led somewhere else all together, somewhere far away from Sherlock's house, 221B Baker Street, and, if his deductions were correct, somewhere far from his planet all together.

The crack made Sherlock aware that his well being was in danger; for anyone else the awareness would be known as _fear. _Which is what brought Sherlock to his current position, kneeling at his bed, hands clasped in a steeple, eyes closed in concentration.

"Dear Einstein," He started, "there is a large crack in my wall, about a meter long and very thin. There are voices, and sometimes a soft glow, emanating from the crack. If could please send Hawking or Fr-" Sherlock is interrupted by a very large and very loud crash, which is followed by softer, alien noises. After looking out the window, Sherlock quickly dons his bathrobe and runs to inspect the big blue box that had just crashed into a rubbish bin on the side of his apartment. He doesn't think to be quiet for Mycroft's sake, which is all fine, seeing as he'd gone out for the night, not bothering to inform his little brother. As he approaches the police box, as it is clearly labeled, a raggedy, sopping wet man is climbing out of it.

"Your box is bigger on the inside. How?" Asked Sherlock, eyes bright.

The man's eyes widen in curiosity. "Will we- have we met? How did you know that?" Said man got very close to the small boy's face, whipping out a silver mechanism and shining a blue light at his head. The thing buzzed weakly, and the strange man hit it against his thigh several times before the contraption hummed proudly. "Hm," The man pondered, consulting the thing in his hand, "you aren't alien. I don't know you in your past. How did you know my TARDIS was bigger on the inside?"

Sherlock looks skeptically upon the man, pondering the casualness with which the stranger said 'alien'. "The way you climbed out. It was a long fall, I can tell by the way you walk. Somehow, though, you're not critically injured, you should be..." Sherlock bit his knuckle for a moment, thinking. "You have a swimming pool! You _must_ be alien, considering your technology and your second cardiovascular system." As the man opens his mouth, Sherlock puts up a finger, answering his unasked question. "Your veins, too many and in all the wrong places." At this Sherlock tapped the man's forearm, where veins were prominent. "Are you here to fix the crack in my wall?"

Grinning, the alien placed his hand in Sherlock's, shaking it firmly. "I am the Doctor, and I'll fix your crack as soon as you get me some jam."

The Doctor was a strange man, Sherlock thought, as he made two jam sandwiches and two cups of tea. He was telling him of his crack, restraining the questions he had for the alien. Silently, the child regarded the man, taking in his short appearance, his blond hair, his old eyes, and his new face. "My brother doesn't believe me, though." Sherlock summed up. "He thinks my childish subconscious is making the monsters up for some reason." The Doctor took his sandwich, chewing on it and thinking.

"Are you making it up?" He finally asked, swallowing.

"No, of course not." Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Come and see it." With that he led the Doctor down stairs, into his room. "I don't think Doctor should be your name. It's a title, and one you have to earn. Do you have an ordinary name?"

"I suppose you can call me John. John Smith, it's what I call myself sometimes." The Doctor replied absently, inspecting the crack in Sherlock's wall.

"Much too average, not convincing at all! How about John... Brown? Brown is a less common name. Or maybe... Watson?"

The Doctor looked up and straightened himself, grinning at Sherlock. "John Watson is a respectable name as any, I suppose." He stood there a moment, Sherlock and his John Watson, grinning at each other, when there's loud crash, and then the Doctor groaned. "My TARDIS! It's getting away from me!" He ran out the door, Sherlock on his tail.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked him.

"My ship! It needs to be stabilized, a quick trip across your solar system should do it... I'll be right back!" The Doctor jumps to the ship, scrabbling up the side of it.

"Wait, John, let me come!" Exclaims Sherlock, scared that this fantastic man would leave him. "What if you don't come back?" At this the alien jumps down, kneeling to Sherlock's height.

"It's dangerous in their, far too dangerous for a kid your age." At this Sherlock opens his mouth, but the Doctor puts his finger up. "Even if you are remarkably smart. I'll be right back, I promise, five minutes." Then the strange man in the raggety suit jumped over the ship's wall and dived into the ship.

Once Sherlock heard the splash of the swimming pool he ran inside, grabbed his suitcase and started flinging clothes in. Once he was done he donned his jacket and sprinted to the place the TARDIS crashed. He sat on the suitcase and waited, silently counting the minutes.

That morning Mycroft would find his brother asleep outside, head resting in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Lot's of dialouge in this, I apologise! I've got a basic story line planned out and the third chapter rough draft done. Also, here's some spoilers: The Master's coming back. I'm changing things up, obviously, but I'll take ideas from different stories, because I'm unoriginal and stuff. Enjoy, and please comment!

The Doctor peeked out of his TARDIS, taking in the woods and fog around him. It was very obviously a different night, in a different place, and almost definitely a different year. As he took in the landscape he noticed a man gaping at him, fear written all over his face. As he took in the features, the Doctor's own face began to look a bit troubled. "Sherlock?" The man just stood there, almost as if the shock of being scared was too much. "Sherlock!" Exclaimed the Doctor, hopping from his box and grabbing his face. "It's the Doc- it's John Watson. My ship must have read the coordinates wrong when she was fazing, not that I can blame her, poor thing." The Doctor took in Sherlock's face, and the pain that was there as he looked at his John half-hopefully. He shook his head, ashamed of what he'd done to this boy. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Maybe, um, maybe it's best if we took this somewhere else." Sherlock finally replied, uncomfortable in the other man's grip.

"I can't leave, my TARDIS has got to-" Worried the Doctor, before Sherlock grabbed his hand. Suddenly the bold, affirmative little boy was back.

"John, we need to leave. Come on." He tugged at the alien's hand and, had it not been so dark outside, Sherlock would've noticed a pink tinge to the Doctor's cheeks when he did it.

The walk back to Sherlock's hotel was silent and had no bounds of awkward; eventually the both of them got so nervous and sweaty that Sherlock eventually relinquished John's hand to wipe his own on his trousers. Finally, though, they got inside the inn. Sherlock headed straight for the fireplace, where two seats were and unceremoniously dumped himself into the chair. He pointed to the one across from him. Once John finally sat down, Sherlock prompted him.

"Explain."

"I did, my ship malfunctioned. It travels in space and ti-" The Doctor made an effort to explain, before being cut off.

"Of course it travels in space and time. It's a TARDIS, which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. A type fourty, if my assumptions are correct. You, John, are the Doctor, a time lord from the planet Gallifrey, and a proper genius, like me. You have a dark past, one that you make an effort to hide through your cheery demeanor and frankly heinous clothes." Sherlock looked down at the tattered suit covering the Doctor and frowned. "You're also lonely. You have a number of companions that accompany you, usually female, but none now. You've pushed them all away. Allow me to rephrase my question. Explain why you decided to land where you did? Why did you choose me?"

"How did you get all of that?" Asked the Doctor, eyes wide.

"I observed. Answer the question."

The Doctor shrugged simply. "I was crashing. Nothing was chosen, Sherlock. How did you escape the alien in your apartment though? You should have died."  
"That was years ago, John. I figured it by the time I was twelve." Sherlock would have continued had he not seen a grey haired man walking into the inn. D.I. Lestrade strode into the room, eyes fixed on Sherlock. However, as he got closer, he blinked at the Doctor, before his eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock.

"Oh my god, that's him!" He said excitedly. "You're Doctor John Watson, and look. He hasn't even aged." Lestrade talked to Sherlock and John in intervals, excitement evident on his face. As it turned out, Sherlock had dedicated much of his time to making likenesses of the Doctor and showing them to everyone, asking whether or not they'd ever seen the man. Everyone who knew Sherlock knew of the Doctor, or Doctor John Watson, as Sherlock referred to him. Eventually, after he was done ogling over John, Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "I need to talk to you about the case."

Sherlock looked at the Doctor before replying. "That's fine, let's go up to my room? John, you'll be fine down here, won't you?"

"I might go out to find some clothes, but yes, I'm fine." John said, trying not to be put off that Sherlock was leaving after he'd just met him. Again. However, true to his word, he went off to the shops, looking for decent clothes. Simple trousers and a cream jumper stood out to him, strange enough, and he traded them, putting his own clothes on the rack in exchange. The girl at the counter looked at him, appalled, but made no move to stop him. He walked about the streets, tinkering with his screwdriver. Suddenly his screwdriver's end lit up, and when the Doctor turned the tool around to inspect it, a hologram showed up, showing a middle aged man leaning on an umbrella, a tolerant smile on his face.

"Hello, Doctor. I'd like to chat with you, I hope you aren't inconvenienced.. A car has just pulled up next to you." The Doctor looked, and yes, a sleek black car had pulled up and the driver had opened the door. "I'd add some threat, but I don't find it necessary, given the circumstances. Goodbye, Doctor." At this the screwdriver made a pitiful buzz, before completely shutting off; the Doctor was pretty sure the thing was spent.

He let out a deep sigh and a short shrug before climbing into the dark car. To his right sat a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. He had dark hair, bright eyes, and a suit. The Doctor, seeing as he wasn't going anywhere, decided to strike up conversation with the man. "What's your name?"

"Ianto Jones, sir." Said Ianto, nodding at the Doctor. It seemed that was all he was going to say, and he kept his eyes fixed strictly to the back of the seat in front of him. The trip, fortunately, was short. The Doctor found himself arriving at a small cabin on the outskirts of the woods. The driver opened the door, letting the Doctor out to walk happily to the front door, leaving Ianto in his wake. The interior of the cabin was illuminated by a single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Standing directly underneath it stood the man from the hologram, umbrella still in hand, but no advanced technology in sight.

"Ah, John Watson. I hope you don't mind if I call you that, I like to believe 'Doctor' is no more than a title." Said the man conversationly. He had pulled a small book from his breast pocket and started flipping through it.

"Who are you?" Asked the Doctor, scowling. "What do you know about Sherlock?"

The man blatently ignored the question, instead consulting his little book. "Trust issues, it says here, Watson. I do believe that's your fault. He was never the same, after you left. He'd refused the few friends he had, and even-." The man cut himself off, before smiling a hollow smile and starting over. "Well, he doesn't have a lot of friends. I would, if you promised to stay with him, offer you a handsome fee for you to tolerate his companionship. You do seem to have an awful lot of them, those companions, don't you?"

The Doctor scrunched his face at the proposition. "I'd rather not." He said simply, wishing he wasn't in the situation.

"Oh," said the man, and it was almost a laugh. "You are very loyal, very fast."

"No... I'm just not interested. Is this all?" He said.

"Trust issues, it says here, John. You did that to him, you know. And, yet..." He cocked his head, as if he was above the fickleness of the human heart. "He still looks up to you, he still seems to thinks you're fantastic. Do you not find that strange, Doctor Watson?"

"Oh, very! If I was to pick a person to look up to it would be... well it would not be me. It would be Henry Allott, the inventor of pink lemonade. Or JK Rowling!" The Doctor agreed, before trading his grin for a more serious face. "However, I'm not taking your money to watch over Sherlock."

The man looked pleased. "So, you will watch over him?"

"Maybe. Are we done here?"

Ianto took the Doctor back to the inn and by the time he was inside, Sherlock was pacing, agitated, in front of the fire.

"There you are John, I thought you'd left again." Said Sherlock, hiding the hurt in his eyes. "There's a case to solve, and I need your help. Want to come along?"

"God, yes."


End file.
